Pretty, proper, perfect
by Inkfire
Summary: Narcissa wants things to be perfect, and she won't take no for an answer. A response to the First Magic challenge on The Dark Lord's Most Faithful Forum, and to a Prompt of the Day for Hogwarts Online.


**This is a response to meira16's First Magic challenge on The Dark Lord's Most Faithful Forum, and also to December 8th's Prompt of the Day on Hogwarts Online: "well, I suppose it's good to be ambitious." **

**Narcissa moods FTW. Enjoy =)**

_**First Magic**_

_**The idea is to write about the first display of accidental magic young wizards or witches have. Funny one, angsty ones, foreshadowing of future talents or events, parents' reactions, embarrassing incidents among Muggle-borns - go wild.**_

_**The challenge is for "classical" magic - no Veela or Metamorphagi or anything like that.**_

_**Entries must be at least 300 words and less than 2,000 words. As usual, challenge is open for 2 weeks.**_

* * *

Narcissa Black looked at the dollhouse, first. Then she directed her attention towards her sisters, who were huddled together by the window, whispering and giggling. After which her gaze scanned the room again, critical. The house still stood, untouched and splendid, in the middle, yet its occupants had been stolen from their glorious rooms and shamelessly thrown about. Hera lay, arms outstretched and in disarray, a ways away from the young girl. Cissy hobbled towards the dark-haired deity, picking her up with care and reverence; yet no matter the girl's efforts, the black mane remained tangled, the heavy dress ruffled as though she'd been caught in an angry storm. Which might as well have been the case, she thought, letting the doll lie limp between her arms as her gaze surveyed the room once more. Demeter, similarly brutalized, hung, oddly graceful, the tips of her feet barely brushing the ground; for Meda still held her carelessly by the arm, swinging her lightly once in a while, without thinking, and her skirts floated, spreading occasionally like a blossoming flower before falling again with a whisper of crumpled fabric. Narcissa tore her eyes from the hovering princess with a sigh – there was evidently no retrieving this one. She set on her quest again, fair brows knitted in concern, before a small gasp escaped her pink lips. There she was. Hestia, the last of the dolls, was sprawled on the table, blond curls spread in a halo, her tiny feet barely dangling from the edge. Cissy stalked towards her, dropping Hera without a second thought in her haste to reach her very own doll. She stood on her tiptoes, arms desperately outstretched, yet her dainty fingers could not quite reach the royal foot. She couldn't help a small cry of distress.

"Bella!" she whined.

Her sister whirled around, her curls leaping wildly on her shoulders, and groaned. "Cissy, leave the damned doll alone. Come and watch!"

"Meda!" she called then, her voice softer and more pleading, convinced that her sibling could not _possibly_ be so indifferent to the princesses – she had not left her own spread across the floor, after all. Demeter danced teasingly at the end of Andromeda's arm as she shot over her shoulder: "Cissy, it's beautiful outside! Come on!"

"But...!" Narcissa's smooth little cheeks crumpled with despair, and she reached one more time, leaping up towards her doll – yet her tiny fingers only pushed the foot a bit farther, and she fell on her behind, with a tearing sound from her pretty dress. Her eyes widened, and then she cried out again – no words, but one shrill note of offence and discontentment.

Hestia rolled from the edge of the table, falling right on Cissy's face. There was one minute of bewildered immobility before the doll, as smoothly as her station required, floated over to the house she should never have left to begin with, and settled there, looking quite perfect. Hera stirred, and Meda suddenly said: "What...?"

Narcissa watched as her sister stared down at her doll, which had just given an unexpected and rather imperious tug – then Andromeda's gaze flickered from the flushed girl on the floor, to the dolls and their dainty little palace.

"Bella," she said.

Bellatrix groaned. "No! Shut up and watch the stars."

"Bella, look at that."

The eldest girl turned her head impatiently. "Aw. Cissy fell. That's a first. Too bad."

"Bella, I think the doll moved."

"I don't care about the doll!"

"I think she did magic."

There was a pause.

"What?"

Bella strode across the room towards Cissy, almost stepping on her doll on the way. She stared at Hera, then at Cissy, then at Hestia, then at Cissy again. "Tell me she didn't move the doll."

"I think she did."

Bellatrix stared into Narcissa's eyes. "Did you?"

Cissy's lip wobbled. "She went where she belonged," she mumbled, not quite understanding what was happening to her.

Meda clapped her hands, laughing. "Oh, Cissy."

"Our little sister just did her first magic," Bella said, "she moved a doll." Disgruntled and disbelieving, she kicked Hera. Cissy shrieked in shock: "Don't do that!"

"What did you expect?" Meda wondered.

Bella groaned. "I shattered Aunt Walburga's wine glass. You set my hair on fire. Cissy could have, I don't know... broken that ugly vase Uncle Alphard brought us back from somewhere, at least! If aesthetics were so important to her!"

"Well, I suppose it's good to be ambitious," Meda replied, "but it looks like Cissy's ambitions are a bit different from your own."

She crossed the room, taking Hestia from the dollhouse again and shaking her a little, pensively, looking into the tiny porcelain face. "Cissy wants the princesses in their castle, where they belong," she said, chuckling. "Well, there's nothing wrong with that."

Bella kicked the doll again.

Feebly, it kicked back.


End file.
